The Shadow of Rebellion
by Some Call Me Tickler
Summary: After the execution of President Snow went ahead as planned, the horror that was President Coin's Hunger Games begun. Follow four Capitol children as they face the dangers of the Hunger Games. Full summary inside. Rated T for possible gore.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello! New Fanfic, ahoy! (Sorry, in a very hyper mood. I have no idea why.)**

**ANYWAY. This is serious business. Supposedly. **

**Also, I asked my friends what I should call this. I got the responses of "Muffin on a Leash", "Sarah is Cool", "Sarah is a Fridge", "Serious Fanfiction", "Untitled: For Lack of a Better Name" Thanks guys, for your... inspirational... input -sarcasm-**

**Right. Back on track. Yes. Here's a summary:**

**In an alternate reality, Katniss didn't shoot President Coin and Snow's execution went ahead as planned. But that's not the only thing changed. The horror that is Coin's Hunger Games is about to begin. Follow four Capitol children, Ryker, Jessamine, Eryx and Fayna as they attempt to conquer Coin's Games.**

**Right. Summary out of the way. Now, Prologue.

* * *

**

"Why did I agree to this?" Katniss murmured as she and the other living victors were called to the stage to witness President Coin take twenty-four slips of paper out of two large glass spheres. The scene was all too familiar to Katniss, and she tried not to look too emotional in front of the huge crowd gathered.

The line of surviving past victors took their seats at the back of the stage, leaving Coin to begin a lengthy speech on the importance of these Games.

"Greetings, citizens of the Capitol. As you all know, you have been called here today for a reaping. The final Hunger Games is about to begin, and the children of the Capitol will enter the arena for the first time in history!"

There was a paused as worried – and, strangely enough, excited – murmuring rippled through the crowd.

President Coin nodded to a pair of boys offstage, who began wheeling the two glass spheres onstage.

Katniss' heart pounded as her memories of those reaping balls came flooding back into her mind, the most painful of which was the eccentric Effie Trinket pulling out that tiny slip – one in thousands – with the name Primrose Everdeen unmistakeably printed upon it.

Katniss felt like she was on the brink of a meltdown. She shot a nervous glance at Peeta, decided that he would be no help, and stared at the ground, keeping her mind blank.

Meanwhile, President Coin had launched into a massive speech which no-one really listened to. Some of the children were too scared to pay attention and the Victors were either bored due to the amount of speeches they'd heard in their time, or preoccupied with more important thoughts.

Then, President Coin went on to begin drawing the Tribute's names, and everyone became very interested all of a sudden.

After about a minute of suspenseful rummaging, Coin pulled out a small strip of paper.

"Brea Stone!" The words rang clear, and a dazed thirteen-year-old made her way to the stage, as id she couldn't decide if this was a dream or reality.

Coin the moved over to the bowl which held the boys' names, extracting the first male tribute.

"Abdon Marl."

The rest of the assembly continued like that, resulting in twenty-four petrified, or in some cases, delighted, boys and girls, standing on a stage, not knowing what the future held for them.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's the prologue. It's supposed to be short, even though I have a habit of writing short chapters. You may have to get used to that.**

**Anyway, tell me what you think! Please? Because if you don't tell me, I may have to go and cry in my designated emo corner.**

**Right. Anyway, review?**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello there again! Sorry for taking so long to update this. I should get better though, 'cause school finishes on Tuesday. Which is Monday for you Americans. And British people too, I think. Anyway.**

**Here's the next chapter. And here's to hoping it's reasonably long.

* * *

**

Fayna May's life couldn't have been any more cliché. She was everything anyone had come to expect from a Capitol resident – dyed skin (a light pink) bleached-blonde hair and the classic snobby Capitol accent. And don't even get me started on her mental capacity. Some speculated as to whether she actually knew what was happening when she was reaped. She bounced onto the stage as if it was the best honor that had ever been bestowed upon her, (Which, to clarify for people as stupid as Fayna, it was not.) and bowed happily before stepping into the line of tributes, waving brightly to the crowd, obviously unaware of the perils that would follow.

* * *

Eryx Downs was slightly abnormal by Capitol standards. His family was average – _he_ was average, and he wouldn't have it any other way. To some of the more – eccentric – Capitol residents, Eryx and his family may as well have lived in one of the Districts.

When his name boomed through the large speakers on either side of the stage, Eryx moved self-consciously to join the line, not cockily or kicking and screaming like some of the other tributes. Just a good, modest boy hoping to survive. He stared blankly at the crowd, wishing for a chance to stay alive.

* * *

Ryker Grant scowled as her name was drawn from the girl's reaping ball. She had already seen half of her family killed by the rebels, and she wasn't going to let them take her life as well. She took her time striding up to the stage with an air of grace about her, knowing that it only added to the lingering suspense.

Ryker knew how to play a crowd.

If there was any trace of fear in her system, none could see it. She took her place in the growing line of tributes and stared directly at every member of the crowd with her cruel gaze.

She really believed that none could best her.

* * *

Jessamine Snow already knew that she would be one of the twenty-four tributes. Being the granddaughter of the late President Snow, it wasn't hard to guess why President Coin would want her as a participant in her Games.

To be honest, anyone with half a brain would have guessed that Jessamine would be selected as a tribute for the Final Games. Unfortunately, even _half_ brains are a rare specimen in the Capitol, so the news came as a shock to most of the crowd.

"It's been rigged!" a hysterical woman shouted.

"Well no shit, Sherlock!" a deeper man's tone – probably one of a former rebel – echoed through the crowd.

This made part of the crowd forget about Jessamine for a moment, wondering who this 'Sherlock' person was.

Jessamine joined the line of teenagers ultimately sentenced to death, wondering whether or not to kick up a fuss.

_After I win, _she assured herself. _Then Coin will get what's coming.

* * *

_

**A/N: Okay, maybe not so long. Ah, well, It'll be easier once I get into the story a bit more. I hope.**

**Anyway, just wanted to say, that although this may look really serious right now, there will be sparks of (hopefully amusing) humor.**

**Anyway, review? Please? Go on, make my day.**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! **

**Apologies for not updating ever. I will try to update more. Promise.**

**Anyway, chapter. This was originally going to be two chapters, but I decided it was too short.

* * *

**

"Okay, this needs to be quick," President Coin said, placing a bowl in the middle of the surviving seven victors. "Pick a name out of the bowl. Only one each, the rest will be trained by other professionals. Ex-Gamemakers or something like that."

"I thought we killed all the Gamemakers," Johanna pointed out.

"I'm sure I saved a couple for this purpose," Coin smiled. "But anyway, just pick a name. We have roughly three hours until we have to present this and there are to be no mistakes. Clear?"

"Crystal," Enobaria muttered. The other victors remained silent.

"Go round in a circle. Beetee, you first," Coin instructed. Beetee took the bowl with shaking hands and unwillingly extracted the first name.

"Sol," Beetee declared, his voice trembling slightly. "Sol Winch."

"Okay, next," Coin urged, pushing the bowl towards Annie. She tentatively dipped her hand in the bowl and caught a slip of paper, pulling it away so quickly you'd think the bowl was filled with acid.

Then again, in Annie's mind, you could never know.

"Uh, Bryce Larkin," Annie murmured, but the room was so quiet that everyone heard her.

Coin pushed the bowl towards Haymitch, who wasted no time in drawing his new trainee.

"Fayna May,' He called, nudging the bowl towards Enobaria and reaching into his suit pocket for a small bottle of liquor.

"Junius Andrews," Enobaria purred, brushing the bowl so it skidded towards Johanna. As soon as she read the name on her piece of paper, a huge grin dominated her face.

"Jessamine Snow," she announced, giddy. "President Snow's granddaughter."

The Victors exchanged joyful and somewhat longing looks as Johanna passed the bowl on to Peeta.

"Eryx Downs," he said, handing the bowl to Katniss.

"Of course _I'm_ last," Katniss muttered, pulling out the name of the last tribute to have a Victor as their mentor.

"Ryker Grant," she called.

"Okay, you have your names. Can we go now?" Johanna asked.

"Not yet," Coin insisted. "I've made a few changes to the structure of your mentoring duties."

"Oh, joy," Johanna muttered sarcastically.

Coin, ignoring Johanna's comment went on to say, "Each day of training – which is now two weeks – the tributes will get four hours one-on-one time with their mentor. The other four hours will be spent in the training facility as normal. Got it?"

Everyone nodded, anxious to leave.

"Good. Now you may leave."

* * *

The building behind the makeshift stage was in chaos after the reaping. Twenty-Four different stylists were shouting twenty-four different names through the rather cramped hall.

It didn't take long for Fayna to find her stylist, most likely because her name is the only thing her ears will hear.

"Ah, Fayna. If you would come with me," Fayna's stylist – Edessa – drew Fayna away to the back room assigned for her makeover.

Jessamine was also found quickly, but more in the 'She's-quite-important' way rather than Fayna's obsession with her own name.

"Right this way, Miss Snow," the guiding hand of Jessamine's stylist Kais began to push her through the crowd. A hand which Jessamine immediately pushed off. She was sick of all the special treatment she received, just for being President Snow's granddaughter. People assumed she enjoyed it. And she did, back before the rebellion, when her status was an honor. Now, people either avoided her or treated her like a poor, homeless child. As if she needed support. People always had their expectations of what she would be like, but no-one ever seemed to get it right. They acted like she was weak, and couldn't handle the way life worked. Nobody expected her to be indifferent, so naturally, she was.

Kais stopped for a second, gaging Jessamine's action.

"Uh, just follow me," he said, parting the crowd on the way to his stylist room.

After milling through the crowd for about ten minutes, Eryx finally heard someone call his name.

"About damn time," he muttered, following the voice calling him.

"Ah, there you are," A tall woman patted his shoulder. "I'm Kendrea, your stylist. Follow me."

Eryx paused for a second, before trailing after Kendrea.

"Uh, excuse me, do we get to see our families? Y'know, say goodbye and stuff," he asked.

"No, sorry. I know how hard this must be for you," she said.

_You have no idea,_ Eryx thought, passing through the door Kendrea held open.

Ryker was one of the last Tributes left in the hall. The other two - Bryce and Sol – were trying to make small talk with each other, but anyone could guess that they were at least slightly scared.

"Which one of you is Ryker?" A lady with hot-pink skin asked.

"Me," Ryker reluctantly stepped forward.

"Okay! Come with me!" She said brightly. "My name's Sabrina."

"Okay," Ryker muttered, letting Sabrina drag her to a room equipped with makeover tools.

Ryker was a pretty good judge of character, and she could tell that after a while, she'd want to punch her stylist's face in.

* * *

**A/N: And that's it for this chapter. Sorry I'm taking so long to update.**

**As a side note, by the next time I update, I may have changed my author name. If you have any suggestions for what I can change it to, let me know.**

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello! If anyone is actually reading this...**

**Anyway, I'm not going to bore you with an author's note, for once. Straight to the point.

* * *

**

"So. What to do with you, eh?" Kendrea pondered, eying the sixteen-year-old boy called Eryx. She had about three hours in which to make him look noticeable, and Kendrea wasn't quite sure how yet. He _was _handsome, but not in the eye-popping way she had noticed in some of the other tributes. He had cropped brown hair with matching brown eyes. He wasn't extremely tall or short and was of average build.

Kendrea sighed inwardly. If Eryx was to be noticeable, it would mean hard work on her part.

* * *

Fifteen-year-old Fayna babbled on and on as Edessa figured out what to do with her. As far as she could figure, Edessa thought Fayna was a born entertainer.

_No problem, _she thought.

Fayna was pretty, if not a bit ditzy. While there was beauty, there was a lack of brains.

She had flowing, curly white-blonde hair with streaks of light pink in it that matched her unnatural skin-tone. She was tall and slim, with light blue eyes that stood out behind thick eyelashes.

"I know _exactly _ what to do with you," Edessa told her.

* * *

A giggling Sabrina scanned Ryker's fourteen-year-old body with interest. To Sabrina, she had a... different kind of beauty. Dark brown straight shoulder-length hair. A light tan. Short, but athletic-looking. She had a kind of elfish face and dark blue-green eyes.

Sabrina had so many things she could of done to Ryker, but the stylists _did_ have limits, and she had a set theme to work around.

Sabrina wasn't known to waste time.

* * *

"So," Kais muttered. "Jessamine Snow."

The sixteen-year-old simply glared at her stylist as he looked her over.

She had wavy blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. She wasn't particularly tall or short and was rather pale in complexion.

Kais could plan how to style this girl all day, but it wouldn't change the fact that he had strict orders from Coin herself.

* * *

Eryx couldn't decide whether his time with his stylist and prep team had dragged or gone by in a blur.

His prep team – whose names he couldn't be bothered remembering – had babbled through the last couple of hours, as if he were actually listening. Occasionally, he _did_ listen, only to realize that they were only talking about how good he was going to look in the mystery outfit.

About three hours and an unspeakable amount of makeup later, they finally placed him in front of a mirror, and the first thing he though was, _how unoriginal is this?_

They had given him a battered tuxedo, complete with a bow-tie, and a flaming cape.

_Great to see you're thinking outside the box.

* * *

_

Fayna had quite a nice time chatting with Edessa and her prep team, Tuesday, Kenji and Brielle. In three hours, they managed to get through every pointless topic you could think of, and about eighty more you couldn't.

And after what seemed like an hour to Fayna, she was staring at her reflection in a long mirror.

They had dressed her like a trashy pop star.

And she loved it.

To her, it had just the right amount of ruffles and pink, not to mention the incredibly high heels. She was fitted with a torn, hot-pink ,frilly skirt and a worn down white singlet.

Not that you could see much of it under the many layers of flashy jewelery.

"This. Is. _Fabulous!_" Fayna squealed.

* * *

Ryker simply glowered at her prep team as they tried to make conversation.

"Not the talkative type, huh?" one of them asked.

She said nothing.

To be fair, she had a lot to think about. The shattered remains of her family, how to play the crowd, how to brutally murder every other person who enters the arena.

Just little things.

After what seemed like a year of glaring at her stylist and prep team, Ryker was finally shoved in the view of a mirror to see what had been done to her appearance.

She wore what used to be a long, flowing blue dress. It had been hastily cut at the knee and was smeared with fake mud and blood stains.

_For such a bubbly person,_ Ryker thought. _Sabrina sure knows how to make a depressing outfit.

* * *

_

Jessamine would have preferred _not _ to talk to Kais – or her prep team, for that matter – but years of her mother telling her to 'be more polite' and 'For God's sake, you're the granddaughter of the freaking _President! _At least _try _ to act like a lady!'

Back in the day, Jessamine would have laughed and told her mother to stop dreaming. Now, though... The rebellion had changed so many people, and Jessamine had been no exception.

But before she could finish her thought, she was pushed towards a mirror and she got to see what had been done to her in the past three hours.

Her hair was piled on top of her head with a small, broken crown tilted on one side. She was wearing a Victorian-style Queen's dress, except it was worn and ripped, with splatters of fake blood sprayed over it.

She looked like a Queen who had fallen from grace.

And that was the exact message Coin wanted to send out.

* * *

**A/N: So that's that chapter. I know that it's a bit all over the place at the moment, but it's necessary.  
**

**Review?**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: I haven't got much to say for now, so you've been spared. **

**For now.**

**Also, just as a warning, there will be minor cussing in this.**

**Anyway, to the chapter -cue superhero theme music-

* * *

**

Fayna, Jessamine, Eryx, Ryker and all the other Tributes were moved towards a large stable holding twenty-four single-person chariots with names hastily painted on the sides.

Stressed looking officials shouted Tribute's names, pushing said Tributes onto chariots.

Some Tributes were babbling excitedly to no-one in particular. Others just looked nervous, and understandably so.

Fayna was one of the babbling ones. She thought that her life couldn't get any better from this moment on.

Across the room, however, Ryker was about ready to kill someone. Admittedly, it was a bit preemptive, but all of them – sans her, of course – were going to die anyway. Why not speed up the process?

She gripped the sides of her chariot and tried to postpone her murderous thoughts until she set foot in the arena.

At the end of the row of chariots, Jessamine was thinking along the same lines as Ryker. Kill everyone, win the Games before they even start. But knowing Coin, if everyone else died, Jessamine would be killed too. And Jessamine preferred life over death.

In the chariot in front of Jessamine, Eryx was on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

_Get a grip,_ he thought. _No-one will notice you anyway._

He looked around. At least five other Tributes had flaming capes like his. That calmed him a little.

Then the stable doors opened and sheer panic kicked in.

* * *

Fayna almost died of pure happiness. She was the fourth Tribute to roll out, and the amount of people calling her name was just astounding. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd – just doing what came naturally, which was showing off.

Ryker, who was a few chariots behind Fayna, put on a half-hearted smile and waved occasionally, not really bothered by the fact that more people were chanting for the Tribute behind her.

_Who cares? _She thought. _I'll have sponsors lining up when they see me in the arena._

Towards the back of the line of chariots, Eryx smiled nervously, waving and trying to attract at least a _little _attention.

_Who am I kidding? He_ thought. _Jessamine Freaking _Snow _is behind me. How can I compete with that?_

Jessamine herself had been taught how to play a crowd. The constant smile, the waving, the pointing, the occasional wink – she had it down to an art. But behind her fabricated lovable exterior, Jessamine was fuming. As she stared into the eyes of the screaming crowd she was dreaming of the day she could snap President Coin's neck.

The twenty-four chariots were assembled in front of President Coin's house. Coin herself was on the balcony, along with the seven surviving Victors behind her.

She began a long, rambling speech about how important these Games were to 'balance the scales' and how it will be 'beneficial to all of Panem.'

Most of the Tributes pretended to be interested, only paying attention when Coin made her final announcement.

"The seven people you see behind me are the seven surviving Victors from the late President Snow's Games," Coin's voice carried throughout the crowd. "They have each chosen one Tribute's name at random, and they will mentor that Tribute. Other Tributes will be mentored by other specialists."

Coin motioned to someone on the balcony, and a sheet of paper was handed to her.

"Beetee," A light shone on Beetee as he stepped forward. "Will mentor Sol Winch."

"Annie," The same light showed a bewildered Annie. "Will mentor Bryce Larkin."

"Haymitch will mentor Fayna May."

"Enobaria will mentor Junius Andrews."

"Johanna will mentor Jessamine Snow."

"Peeta will mentor Eryx Downs."

"Katniss will mentor Ryker Grant."

There was a pause, then Coin declared the assembly closed and the chariots took the Tributes to the Training Center.

* * *

When they arrived at the Training Center, Ryker was greeted by her new mentor. Katniss Everdeen.

_Is this some kind of cruel, sick joke?_ She thought. _This girl killed half my family. Not directly, but still. How can I just _forget_ that?_

"You're Ryker, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," she replied. _And you're the bitch who ruined my life. _

"I guess you'd better come with me then."

_Well, no shit._

Fayna was on a high. When Haymitch came over to collect her, she started babbling.

"Oh. My. Gosh. Hi Haymitch! You're like, my mentor, or something. Isn't that _fantabulous_?"

"Fantabulous? Yeah, sure. Come with me," Haymitch pulled out a small flask which was undoubtedly filled with liquor. For him, it was going to be a _long_ two weeks.

"Hi, Eryx?" Peeta reached Eryx's chariot and helped him down.

"Yeah, that's me," Eryx muttered.

"You don't want to be here, do you?" Peeta asked.

"Not really," Eryx admitted, looking down at his shoes.

"Me neither, but anyway, you're supposed to come with me."

"Uh, okay, I guess," Eryx trailed off, following Peeta.

"Snow," Johanna barked, reaching Jessamine's chariot.

"Why, hello to you too," Jessamine muttered sarcastically.

"You have to come with me," Johanna told her.

"No, really? Are you sure?"

"Cut the crap and follow me, I'm not in the mood for games," Johanna snapped.

"Well, this _is_ the Hunger Games so maybe you should just leave," Jessamine hoped Johanna would take the hint.

"In your dreams, Snow. I'm here to watch you die, not listen to your snarky little remarks. Are we clear?"

"Of _course_, oh Glorious Mentor."

* * *

**A/N: So there you have it. Reviews are loved as much as zombie movies and science fiction TV shows (Which I have a passion for.)**

**As a side note, I go back to school tomorrow. Apologies if one of my new teachers decides to kill me.**


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Right. Chapter Five. On it.

* * *

**

"So, tell me a bit about yourself," Peeta said, turning to Eryx. They were in the crowded glass elevator, on their was up to level twelve.

"Uh, well, my name's Eryx," Eryx spoke uncertainly.

Peeta chuckled. "I gathered that."

"And, um, I'm sixteen."

"Is that all there is to you?" Peeta asked. He looked genuinely concerned. Well, he _did_ have a track record for being rather kind.

"Not really, but does it matter? No-one cares about the names of the cows in District Ten, up for slaughter. They're just 'Beef' and 'Steak'. Why should I be any different?" Eryx didn't notice his voice rising until the end of his sentence.

The other people in the elevator – whom Eryx had barely noticed before this moment – simply stared at him in shock.

Except for Johanna Mason.

"Welcome to our world, boy," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "Welcome to our world."

No-one else spoke as the elevator continued upwards, losing people every stop. The other Tributes wouldn't stop staring at him, which Eryx found creepy. When they finally reached level twelve, there were only four of them left inside, Peeta, Eryx, Katniss Everdeen and the girl Eryx recognized as Ryker. They exchanged terse nods as they followed their mentors down the corridor.

Katniss simply opened the door to Ryker's assigned room, telling her that someone will yell at her when she's wanted.

Peeta went for the more likable approach with Eryx.

"So, this is your room then," he said, opening the door. "Dinner will be in the room down there."

Peeta pointed to the door leading to the dining room.

"And-"

"Peeta! C'mon, Coin called another meeting!" Katniss yelled down the hallway.

Peeta sighed and looked at Eryx. "I'd better go."

"I figured," Eryx muttered, as Peeta ran off down the hall. He turned into his room. It wasn't particularly extravagant by his, or rather, the old Capitol's standards. The thing with the most beauty was the large window showing the wide expanse of vibrant colors that was the Capitol.

Admittedly, the view would have been better before the rebellion, when bits of the city weren't being reconstructed, demolished, or whatever it was that they were doing to Eryx's old school.

He stood there, just watching the citadel for a while, until he turned towards the bathroom to have a shower.

Down the hall, Ryker was pacing her room. She had no idea what to do with herself. She had done everything she could think of to occupy her mind, and that wasn't enough. She hoped dinner would come soon. Not that she was hungry, she just wanted something to _do_.

Further down the hall, Fayna was still staring at the door, trying to comprehend what her mentor, Haymitch, had told her.

"_You're on the twelfth floor," he explained. "They're keeping you on your mentor's old floor, if you have one. So there's three of you up here."_

Fayna had just stared absentmindedly at Haymitch's shoulder. Who knew shoulders could be so interesting?

"_Anyway, this is your room. I'll explain more at dinner. Just wait in here until you're called, okay?"_

And for some reason, that had kept Fayna puzzled for about half an hour.

"Oh!" she exclaimed brightly. "I get it now!" Then she wandered off towards the bathroom.

Down on the seventh floor, Jessamine was throwing pillows at the walls, windows, doors – anything that would provide a satisfying and rather therapeutic thump. When Johanna had left her at her door, Jessamine had wanted to strangle her for the smirk on her face.

She thought back to what the boy had said in the elevator.

"_Does it matter? No-one cares about the names of the cows in District Ten, up for slaughter. They're just 'Beef' and 'Steak'. Why should I be any different?"_

Jessamine couldn't agree more. But then there had been her mentor's reaction. It was almost as if she _understood_.

"Of course," Jessamine hissed under her breath. "She sympathizes with a Tribute who isn't me. Freaking. Typical."

She threw a pillow at the door and a second after it hit, the door opened.

_Speak of the devil,_ she thought to herself. _Or rather, _think_ of the devil._

Johanna leaned into her doorway, scowling at the pillow.

"Dinner's ready," she said in a tone of displeasure – she had obviously been hoping to send some underling to come and fetch Jessamine.

She followed Johanna to the dining room, where piles of food awaited.

"So," she asked, shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth. "What's supposed to be happening. I'm guessing these Games are completely different, right?"

Everyone in the room simply stared at her. A few moments later, a servant entered with another Tribute, whose name Jessamine struggled to remember. He was just one of those ones you overlooked.

"Uh, hi," he muttered. Jessamine ignored him and glared at her mentor.

"Well?" she insisted.

Johanna sighed, and turned to the boy. "Sit down – what was your name?"

"Kito."

"Right then Kito-"

"You can't just ignore me!" Jessamine shouted, slamming her fork down on the table.

"Oh, I'm sure you're used to getting what you want straight away, Jessamine," Johanna said snarkily. "But you're ignoring our newcomer."

"Oh, I'm _sorry_," Jessamine hissed, turning to Kito, turning her tone into a sarcastic sweetness which she had adopted so often before the rebellion. "Why, hello there Kito. Nice to meet you." Then she turned back to Johanna. "_Now _can I have some answers?"

Johanna sighed for a second time. "Fine, then. Have it your way."

* * *

Upstairs on the twelfth floor, a slightly more civilized discussion was being passed around the dining room. Fayna, Eryx and Ryker were sat around a table with Katniss, Peeta, Haymitch and a couple of Capitol officials no-one really knew.

"So, what's happening?" Eryx asked.

"What's happening with what?" Peeta looked puzzled.

"District Eight," Ryker hissed sarcastically. "What do you _think_?"

"Listen, Sweetheart, we've gotta train you for the Games and-" A slurring Haymitch was cut off by Katniss.

"I think I'd better handle this, Haymitch. You don't delegate important things to the intoxicated."

Haymitch grunted in recognition, and downed a small glass filled with a clear spirit.

"Right, so-" Katniss began, cut off by a large belch from Haymitch. She glared at him before starting again.

"So, basically, everything you know about Training has been shot to pieces," she explained.

"Well, not shot exactly," Peeta interjected. "More like, changed."

"Yeah. Changed. The whole thing will be two weeks long, and it's not all in the Training Center. You'll get private training with your Mentor four hours a day, and the other four hours will be as normal," Katniss finished.

"Uh, okay," Ryker said, slightly confused. "And the point of two weeks is...?"

"To make you better fighters," Haymitch said, slamming his sloshing glass of alcohol on the table. "Give our audience more of a show."

"So, you're raising us like lambs for a rather _entertaining_ slaughter?" Eryx questioned, the tone of anger he'd used in the elevator making a reappearance.

"I like lamb," Fayna said, twirling her fork around on her plate. There was a collective groan from everyone else on the table.

"Well," Haymitch stated, turning to Ryker and Eryx. "You two can rest easy knowing at least one other Tribute is too dumb to kill you."

And with that, they were sent to bed.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the lateness of this. I started writing it ages ago, got Writer's Block halfway through, then finished it. But anyway. Also, apologies for it skipping around so much. It should get better once we're in the arena.**

**And I was very tempted to add to this line: _She threw a pillow at the door and a second after it hit, the door opened. _She felt like a Jedi. **

**Why, yes, I am a strange person.**

**Review?**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: You're probably all sick of these late update excuses so I'll just go ahead and write the chapter.**

* * *

When Jessamine Snow woke up, she felt absolutely horrible. Physically, she was fine, but mentally, she felt as though two trains had collided and her life was the resulting explosion.

Slowly, she crawled out of bed and into the bathroom where she had a quick shower. She re-entered her bedroom, and found a pair of dull khaki trousers and a plain white T-shirt.

_I'm not going for style, then, _she thought as she pulled the bland outfit on.

Apparently, she was supposed to go straight to breakfast, then decide whether to have a mentor session for the first four hours of training, or just a normal session in the training center.

Jessamine had no doubts about her first choice. She wanted to delay one-on-one training with Johanna for as long as possible, even if it was only a few hours.

The decision was simple. The pair had a mutual disliking for each other. Johanna wanted to make the rest of Jessamine's life – no matter how long or short it ended up being – as miserable as possible, and, understandably, Jessamine had a problem with that.

Unfortunately for Jessamine, her mentor had complete control over what she did, so there really was no decision for her to make.

When Jessamine entered the dining room on her floor, she encountered her fiendishly delighted mentor.

"Jessamine," she addressed her. "Eat your breakfast quickly. Your first mentoring session starts in ten."

"I thought I had a choice," Jessamine objected.

"Misinterpretation," Johanna shrugged. "Hurry up would you? I want to get started."

Jessamine interpreted that last sentence to mean, _"I have some new methods of torture I want to test."_

* * *

On the twelfth floor, Ryker Grant experienced a morning similar to Jessamine's. She woke, showered, and found boring clothes left on her bed.

Obviously, being Katniss Everdeen's Tribute wasn't enough to receive a stylist as amazing as Cinna had been.

Then again, it wasn't as if his execution had been a secret.

Ryker strolled through the hallway as if nothing was bothering her. That was her intention. But the thing was, _everything_ was bothering her. Today, she had to train alone with the infamous Katniss Everdeen, and Ryker blamed her for what had happened to her family.

Her father had been a Peacekeeper in District One before the rebellion. After Ryker's younger brother Marko had been born, he'd moved back to the Capitol permanently. Her mother had been slightly eccentric, as you would expect from a Capitol journalist.

When the rebellion started, things changed drastically to the Grant family's dynamics.

Her mother had been killed in one of the first attacks by the rebels, which spurred her father on to help in the fight. He hadn't died, but the death of Mrs. Grant had taken its toll on him.

While her father was out fighting, Ryker hadn't really known what to do. Before he'd started fighting, her father had taught her the basics of using a standard Peacekeeper pistol, but Ryker didn't really know if the had the guts to use it.

So she waited with five-year-old Marko, hoping the fighting would end. Then fighting had come to their part of the city, and when they heard that the President was opening his doors, they had rushed eagerly to his mansion.

Ryker had shoved Marko in front of her, telling him she'd catch up, that he should get a space in the President's home.

Five minutes later, Ryker witnessed the bombs go off and was sure he was dead. Call it an instinct. Like, when people talk about just _knowing_ that a missing person is still alive. Same thing, except the other way around.

Words cannot describe what Ryker felt that day. She wanted to bawl her eyes out and punch rebels and kill whoever bombed her baby brother. Sweet, innocent little Marko.

But a nagging part of her mind told her that wouldn't help.

So when the rebellion ended, Ryker had still lived with her father, who simply couldn't hide his grief. First his wife, then his son. Half of his family, gone in such a short time span. He would spend hours on end just staring out of the window in their eighth floor apartment. Ryker often wondered if he was thinking of better times, and thinking of what he regretted. She didn't dare ask. He was rather handy with the gun he kept close by his side.

Ryker herself had at least _appeared_ normal. Since the day Marko died, she'd been putting on a show of being confident, when really she was hurt, angry and vengeful.

And you know what? She blamed Katniss Everdeen for everything. If she hadn't of pulled out those berries, Marko would be turning six next month. Her mother would be reporting on a normal Hunger Games, not these twisted ones of which Ryker had been forced to take part.

So, one-on-one sessions with the person Ryker despised most? What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

When Eryx Downs woke up, he was hoping the past day had been a dream. Unfortunately for him, he was still on the twelfth floor of the training center and in about two weeks time, he was destined for the arena.

Good times.

He took a long shower and tried to imagine that his mother was outside in the kitchen, making breakfast and sandwiches for school lunches, and his older sister was pacing outside the door, yelling at him to hurry up. He switched off the water, and sure enough, no impatient footsteps. He was alone here.

He stepped out of the shower, feeling the blast of hot air which dried him completely. Then, he walked back into his room and got dressed. After that, he stepped into the hallway and passed a grumbling Ryker.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked.

"Nothing," she snapped, although her expression implied that everything that could be wrong was wrong.

"You're lying," Eryx pointed out, keeping pace with her.

"Oh, well done!" She barked, jerking to a stop and facing him. "I suppose you want a medal for that amazing insight!"

"I'm no stranger to sarcasm," Eryx muttered. "I was only trying to help."

"You don't get it, do you?" Ryker shook her head. "We are the Tributes! We are supposed to _kill_ each other! And I'm sorry, but I'm not about to make friends with a dead boy."

"You think I have no chance?" Eryx challenged.

"Not against me you don't."

The pair stared each other down, until a bubbling Fayna skipped out of her room, oblivious to the tension in the hallway.

"Oh! Are you two having a staring contest? I _love_ staring contests. I'm playing," she announced, staring intently into Eryx's eyes.

* * *

Fayna May was happy, unlike everyone else on her floor. She was too ignorant to realize she was almost guaranteed death within the next few weeks. She was treating it as a big game – which it was – but she didn't understand the rules. So when she walked in on Ryker and Eryx's argument, she treated it like a child's game, which sounds like a sick joke, what with the Games these children had yet to play.

Fayna had started staring at Eryx, who immediately looked away and stormed off down the corridor, with Ryker following swiftly after him. Fayna, figuring they were simply leading the way, and not trying to get away from her, followed them to the dining room.

"Took you lot long enough," Haymitch grumbled, dipping bread into a bowl of soup.

Katniss smirked slightly, and Peeta gestured to the three empty seats at the table.

Soon, the three Tributes were wiping away remnants of a good breakfast from their lips.

"Okay, uh, Ryker? We'll have a training session now. One-on-one," Katniss informed her. Ryker had never noticed how nervous and insecure the "Mockingjay" was. The things she had seen on the television of her mentor over the last two years had been far from what Katniss Everdeen was really like. Ryker wondered if it had been a show the whole time.

Katniss stood from her seat and led Ryker down the hall to the elevator in silence. The elevator soared downwards, past the other Tribute's floors, past the ground floor and further down, until they reached the Training Center. After walking through a maze of halls Ryker struggled to remember, Katniss paused at a door with her name on it.

"This room," Katniss said, pushing through the door and letting Ryker trail behind her. The room was blank, a white box with a small table and two chairs in one corner, a straw dummy right next to the door and a bullseye painted at the furthest point of the room. The table was piled with various weapons and survival items.

"What do you want to start with?" Katniss asked. Ryker said nothing, and the room was filled with silence for a few awkward moments.

"I'll teach you some archery then," Katniss decided, selecting two bows and sheaths of arrows from the table, handing one of each to Ryker.

"Of course," Ryker muttered, grasping the bow. "Archery. How typical."

"Excuse me?" Katniss raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Ryker said through gritted teeth.

"Didn't sound like nothing," Katniss challenged.

"That would be because I was lying," Ryker spat, glaring at her mentor.

"Oh, so you're _not_ in denial now? Make up your mind, would you?" Katniss stared back at Ryker. "What's with the glaring? I haven't _done _anything yet."

"Oh, I think you have," Ryker hissed.

Katniss stepped back and folded her arms. "How so?"

"You started the Rebellion."

Katniss looked pained, and murmured, "I know."

"You know you killed my mother. And my little brother. He was _five._"

"I've killed a lot of people, Ryker. It's not something I'm proud of."

"So you killed them then?" Ryker almost shouted, outraged. Here was the girl responsible for the deaths of her loved ones, and she almost seemed too easy to kill.

"I'd watch it, if I were you," Katniss said, keeping her voice a monotone a slumping into one of the chairs. "There are cameras covering every inch of this room, and I'm sure you want to survive the Games."

"You didn't answer my question," Ryker's fists curled into balls.

Katniss sighed, as if this was the one subject she did not want to go near – which was exactly how she felt. "Like I said before, I've killed people. Hell, you _saw_ me. You were probably cheering me on, back then. But I have lost people too. Probably more than you know. Rue, in the first Games. Finnick Odair. Cinna. Wiress. A friend of mine from District Twelve, Madge."

Katniss paused for a moment, looking down as if she were about to cry. "My sister," she managed to choke out. "Primrose Everdeen."

"Those names are meaningless to me," Ryker said.

"Don't you get it?" Katniss hissed. "Believe it or not, I have people I love too. And some of those people have died, because of me. Do you have _any_ idea how that feels?"

"_You_ have no idea," Ryker muttered.

"I think you'd be surprised," Katniss snarled.

The pair stared each other down for a few moments, the tension almost tangible in the air.

"If you had never pulled out those berries..." Ryker trailed off.

"Oh, you'd be in your cozy Capitol home with your whole family all together, watching some _other_ Tributes on your television. Things would be the way they used to be. But guess what? I can't change what's happened, so deal with it!" Katniss yelled. "I didn't _ask_ for any this!"

"That doesn't move the blame!" Ryker cried.

"_Blame_? You're blaming _me_?" Katniss scoffed. "All _I_ did was pull out a handful of berries so both Peeta and I could live. I didn't _try_ to start a rebellion."

"But-"

"I did. I know. Haven't we been over this?"

Ryker glared at Katniss, causing her to sigh.

"Look, if I keep trying to convince you not to hate me, I'll sound like a stuck record. So go down the hall to the gymnasium. Train there for the first half. Think," Katniss said, waving her hand towards the door. Ryker didn't hesitate to leave.

* * *

"So," Fayna asked, drawing out the word like an impatient child. "What're we gonna do?"

Haymitch grunted. He'd been throwing spirits down his throat since about ten minutes ago, waiting for Fayna to stop babbling about the minimalistic room.

"Do you have any special skills?" Haymitch asked, and as soon as Fayna opened her mouth, he regretted it.

"Well, I'm pretty. That's a skill, right? And I've got a good fashion sense and my family's really rich, and my pet mouse, like, _talks_ to me. Everyone finds that weird, but it's like a superpower," Fayna started.

"Are you retarded?" Haymitch asked in a serious tone, ruining the image by taking another swig from his flask of spirits.

"What's that?"

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I don't understand," Fayna said, scrunching up her face, 'thinking'.

"Didn't expect you to," Haymitch grunted. "You reckon you can wield a knife?"

"Um-"

"Don't answer that," Haymitch said quickly, selecting two knives from the table and handing one to Fayna. "Grip the handle. The _handle_."

"But the handle is cutting me!"  
"That's not the handle!"

"But you said-"

"Here," Haymitch said, turning the knife around the right way. "_That _is the handle. Don't hold it by the blade. You will die."

"Now what do I do?" Fayna asked.

"Throw it at the wall."

"But the wall didn't do anything to me."

"Throw it at the wall."

"But the wall is my friend."

"Throw it at the wall."

"I like that wall."

"Just throw it at the wall!"

There was a pause, before Fayna asked, "How?"

"I have officially lost hope in the survival of my sanity," Haymitch muttered, throwing his own knife at the wall.

* * *

"Do you _really_ have to test my hand-to-hand combat, or do you just _enjoy_ hitting me?" Jessamine asked, pulling herself back up from the ground.

"Both," Johanna said. "Now quit your whinging or we'll do this for _another_ hour."

"Does that mean we're supposed to be doing something different?" Jessamine questioned, smirking.

"Unfortunately, yes. There's more to this than me beating you to a pulp," Johanna answered. "You have to be able to fight, and fight well. Coin wants a show."

"That's sick," Jessamine muttered.

"And your grandfather's ideas weren't? That's hypocrisy, Snow," Johanna accused.

Jessamine sighed. "Can we just get on with it?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Johanna grinned, moving towards the table of weapons. "Swords," she said, selecting a long silver one for herself. "Useful. Not always my weapon of choice, but if you have one, it can work well for you."

Jessamine took a sword for herself from the pile, glistening silver like Johanna's.

"Let me guess," she said with a grimace. "We're sparring?"

Johanna simply smiled knowingly and strolled into the center of the room.

* * *

"What are you gonna do, teach me to bake?" Eryx asked snarkily.

"Uh, no," Peeta smiled. "We'll start with my specialty."

"And what's that? Getting a girlfriend?"

"Camouflage," Peeta finished, ignoring Eryx's comments.

"Ah, right," Eryx said, remembering Peeta's performance in the 74th Games. Knowing that would give him a slight edge.

"We'll start with concealing an entrance to something, like a cave," Peeta began. "There's a pile of items you may have in the arena over there. See what you can do with them."

"You're not going to give me any instruction?" Eryx asked, annoyed.

"I'll watch," Peeta said. "Just for the first time. After that, I'll teach you my tricks."

"You'd better," Eryx muttered so quietly Peeta could barely make out the words. He stumbled over to the pile which included a loaf of bread, stones, leaves, a knife and a tray full of dirt.

What Eryx was going to do, he had absolutely no idea.

* * *

**A/N: This has taken me so long to write. Then again, it's a long chapter. I hope you like it!**

**Reviews are loved.**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Another chapter. Let's do this thing.**

* * *

Ryker spent what felt like days in the training center's gymnasium. She threw knives, wrestled, lifted weights and picked up a little swordplay. She tried not to think despite what her mentor told her. All she thought she could do was train. Train, and win the Games. Go home to her lonely father, who Ryker thought would most likely kill himself if he was the last member of the family left alive.

So Ryker trained, pushing herself to limits she'd never even considered. And that was only the first half of her day.

After lunch, it was a different story. Katniss came to collect her Tribute from the dining hall, taking her back to the room they'd begun the day in. She taught Ryker the basics of archery, finding Ryker was actually rather skilled with the bow and arrows. At least, for a beginner.

Ryker barely spoke the whole time, simply listening to her mentor's instructions. After a couple of hours straight training, Ryker found she didn't hate Katniss as much as she thought she would. Sure, she hated what Katniss had done, but Ryker decided that a feud with her mentor was not a strategical advantage in the Games. And that's what she was here for; to win the Games. She may not have been entered willingly, but she was sure as hell going to survive, at whatever cost. She owed it to her father.

Then again, she may have, in her mind, agreed to work with Katniss, it didn't mean she had to like her.

So, Ryker adopted a stony silence, but listened to her mentor, only speaking when necessary. After archery, they went through the basics of knife throwing, and then the day ended with Katniss promising Ryker she would elaborate on the finer workings of archery the next day. Ryker simply nodded and made her way up to her room, exhausted.

* * *

Jessamine was relieved as soon as she was free to roam the gymnasium, away from her mentor. She was more of a solitary person.

For a while, she tried getting the feel for a bow and arrow, but quickly bailed on that one. She wasn't an archer, so she moved on to knife-throwing. The only thing that made Jessamine's aim better was imagining the targets as Johanna Mason's head.

Jessamine wondered if she'd be able use this tactic in the arena, before chuckling darkly. She wouldn't have to imagine Johanna's head because she'd hate her opponents in the arena all the same. To her, they were not names of people she could have known, had Panem's future turned out differently. They were obstacles, designed to delay her rise to glory. Jessamine had accepted her role in the Hunger Games, embraced it even. She no longer cared about remaining vendettas from the rebellion. All that was left was survival, and showing President Coin who was boss. She may only be sixteen, but what was age, these days? Jessamine was sure no-one could reject her superiority, should she come to power. She also never thought that she was anything like her grandfather, the late President Snow.

Look who proved herself wrong.

* * *

Fayna's eyes widened as she walked into the Training Center's gymnasium.

"Wow," she breathed, taking in the vast hugeness of it.

"Okay," she said to herself, walking to the middle of the room. "I think I'll go do the thing with the pretty colors on the bench first. That looks fun. Pretty."

She continued to mutter the word 'pretty' as she wandered over the the camouflage station., ignoring strange looks from her fellow Tributes.

Hours flew by, and when it was time for Fayna to leave for dinner, Fayna had only stood staring at jars of paint the whole time, repeating the word pretty.

* * *

Eryx's time in the Training Center was boring, rather like what everyone else thought of him. He spent his time wandering aimlessly from station to station, never quite mastering anything. No-one tried to speak to him. He wasn't one of those outrageous, flamboyant types, nor a classic Career Tribute. He was just, well, Eryx. Nobody paid much attention to him, simply because he was so average.

Could an average boy win the Games?

The general answer would probably be no. Not unless Eryx was hiding something. But these Games weren't the normal Games. These were Capitol children who were never trained to survive outside their city. Sure, _now_ they are training, but two weeks isn't a long time to learn how to survive. Maybe, for once, an average boy could win the Games.

Eryx felt smug as the thought came to him. The odds may not completely be in his favor, but they were the best odds he could hope for.

* * *

**A/N: Long time no update. My excuses involve a 48-Hour Film Festival, a 40 Hour Famine, a band trip to a competition (Which we won), A Science Fair Project and a Social Studies assessment.**

**Oh, and The Sims 3. That's the sad excuse.**

**But anyway, sorry for not updating. This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I figured I'd better update sooner rather than later. Even if it's just a filler.**

**Review?**


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N: Long time, no update. I apologize for my lack of writing this story. And my other one. This time, you can blame _another_ band trip, more Science Fair stuff, HARRY POTTER, an English Internal (For which I just wrote an essay for the Hunger Games.) a couple of short stories for English, (My definition of short was 4,200 words. Whoops.) and a couple of end-of-term tests. **

**Anyway, I'm back for now. So, chapter ahoy!**

* * *

The two weeks allotted for training passed faster than could have been imagined by any of the twenty-four tributes, not to mention their mentors.

"She's doomed," Haymitch could be heard muttering into his little flask of spirits. He had not doubt that Fayna would die – she didn't have the wit, courage or strength to win, even in a field of pampered children who have never lived with any degree of hunger.

The tributes themselves were either dead scared, extremely confident or so clueless they could barely remember the days of the week.

On the last day of training, as per usual, are the private sessions with the Gamemakers. Although, this year, the tributes are being assessed by Coin herself, along with her own Gamemakers.

As the tributes waited to be called, almost every single one of them was trying to decide exactly what to do to impress the Gamemakers – and Coin, for that matter. And, let's be honest, Coin doesn't really seem like the _'easily impressed' _type, does she?

So, the tributes waited nervously, except the few tributes who fit under the 'clueless' category. They were just sitting there, oblivious, although one, a seventeen-year-old girl by the name of Azaria Pond dreamily asked why everyone was being so quiet. This resulted in a glare from tributes such as Ryker and Jessamine, and a murmur of agreement from other, unthinking tributes, all wondering the same thing.

This was one of the only parts of the Games that wasn't completely televised, and many of these new tributes really had no idea what they had to do. Even more so than before, if that were possible.

Each tribute was called in alphabetical order according to their first name, starting with a boy named Abdon.

After about ten tributes had already faced the Gamemakers, Eryx entered the gymnasium, still quite unsure of what he was going to do. He stared at the Gamemakers with President Coin sitting in the centre of the table, petrified for a moment.

Coin raised an eyebrow at Eryx and he suddenly began to move, not completely aware of his actions. He tried to remember what he'd done in the past two weeks, but came up blank. Typical that all that training would leave him now, when it counted.

_Now is not when it counts, _he suddenly thought. _It doesn't count until you get into the arena._

Eryx decided then it didn't matter what he did – just as long as he knew he could survive the actual arena. He began circling the room, trying to find something to do. In the end, he lifted a few weights and mutilated one of the dummies with a small knife. He stepped back from the dummy, breathing heavily and dropping the knife. Every Gamemaker at the table looked towards Coin, who nodded briskly.

"You may leave," she waved her hand at Eryx, and he didn't hesitate in leaving the room.

* * *

When Fayna entered the room, she just stood in the centre for a good five minutes. Coin and the Gamemakers exchanged glances and Coin glared at Fayna.

"Well, get on with it then," she urged, irritated.

"Oh. Oh, right," Fayna muttered, before not moving her stance at all, but beginning to speak.

She launched into a full, ten-minute long speech about how amazing she was, not at all thinking about how inflated her ego was.

"... And that's the amazing tale of how amazingly amazing I am," Fayna finished, giving a little bow. "Feel free to shower me with flowers."

"Uh, we were hoping for something like a skill," one of the Gamemakers said.

"I can shove my whole fist in my mouth," Fayna declared eagerly. "Want to see?"

"You may leave," Coin told her in a monotone, clearly perplexed at the stupidity of that girl.

* * *

Jessamine tried to enter the gymnasium with an air of superiority about her, but as soon as she saw President Coin, her calm demeanor vanished. She tried to take a deep breath and concentrate on what she was supposed to be doing, but Coin spoke.

"Well. Miss Snow," she said, as if her name left a horrid taste in her mouth. Jessamine shot a glare at the President, who, for the first time in her life, wasn't her grandfather. She ignored the thought and picked up a spear, running at a dummy and skewering it through the heart. Before the Gamemakers could even react, she'd pulled out a knife and forced it through another dummy's head. Then, she picked up a sword. And went about slicing almost everything in the room. No-one could say she wasn't destructive, and she certainly seemed fearless. One of the Gamemakers made a small comment about her being unusually fierce for a pampered city girl – a comment Jessamine caught, which made her throw the closest thing to her (a large dumbbell) as far as she could, and it hit the forcefield with a hiss.

She stood, panting in the middle of the gymnasium, completely out of ideas for anything to do that she hadn't already done.

"Thank you, Miss Snow. That will be all," Coin's voice carried in the silent room. Jessamine nodded absentmindedly and left as quickly as she could. As much as she hated to admit it, Coin scared her. It was clear she wanted to erase everything she could of her grandfather's. Her dad was already dead, and it wouldn't be long before Coin got her mother too. The only way she could survive was to win the Games. After that, Coin couldn't touch her. It was literally her only hope.

* * *

Ryker weighed her odds as she stood in front of the Gamemakers. Admittedly, her chances didn't seem the best, but Ryker was determined, as always, to survive. She picked up a bow and arrows and tried to remember what Katniss had taught her over the fortnight of training. The truth was, half the time Ryker ignored her because, being an arrogant teenager, she thought she knew best.

Now, though, she regretted her ignorance as she tried to at least get the arrow in the direction she wanted it to go. Luckily, it hit the bullseye and Ryker had to restrain herself from jumping for joy. She picked up a knife and threw it in the same direction as the arrow. Unbelievably, the knife split the arrow. Ryker's eyes widened in shock, and the Gamemakers were all muttering to each other. Ryker kept a cool expression and went about throwing things all over the room. Some things hit brilliantly, other things did not, but as Ryker was being dismissed, she had a good feeling about how she went. She figured if she could continue this throughout the Games, she should be back home within a month.

* * *

**A/N: Ten points for anyone who catches the Mean Girls reference. As a side note, Mean Girls is the best movie to quote. Ever. "I can't invite you to my party, because I think you're a lesbian." "Boo, you whore!" etcetera. It provides many lulz at school.**

**Anyway, review? Even if it's just to kill me for never updating...**


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: Wow. I haven't updated this is so long, I apologize. Feel free to come after me with a baseball bat. Better yet, go after my teachers. They're the ones freaking us out about exams, which start in about four days.**

**Anyway, here's another chapter!**

* * *

"They're better than I expected," Coin murmured. "Much better."

"What did you expect?" Johanna asked, irritated. "We trained them just like you asked."

The table full of past Victors and the other mentors all looked at Coin expectantly.

"I trusted that you would do well," Coin amended. "I did not, however, know just _how _well."

"Glad that's cleared up," Johanna muttered with a sharp tone. "So what now?"

The table began to stare at Coin with that same anticipating look, as if Johanna was simply voicing everything they were thinking.

"Get them ready for the Games."

"That was a given," Haymitch grumbled behind a bottle, which, really, was the only way he talked these days.

"I did not _ask_ for your opinion, Mr. Abernathy," Coin snapped. "I expect these Games to be a show."  
"Why?" Katniss spoke up for the first time. "To show the Capitol what they put us through for seventy-five years?"

"That's exactly it," Coin was taken aback at Katniss' harsh tone.

'And why does it matter to you?" she hissed. "_You_ weren't a part of the Games. _You_ didn't fear for your life once a year, in the reapings. _You _didn't watch people you know be slaughtered for entertainment. You know _nothing_."

"Katniss," Peeta warned from beside her, grabbing her arm as she stood. She quickly shook him off and glared at Coin, daring her to respond.

"That's why _you_," she gestured to the Victors at the table, "were the ones to vote on this. I recall you were the one who gave the deciding vote, Miss Everdeen."

"I have reasons for wanting this," Katniss said slowly. "You, I recall, spent all those years bunkered up in District Thirteen, while innocent people died. While my little sister was chosen to die, and I had to step in to save her, which killed her in the end. While I held Rue in my arms, and sang until _she_ died. So many people I failed to save, all because of the Hunger Games. So many debts left unpaid," she shook her head sadly. "For me, this is closure. Me paying my debts owed to those who died in the Games. What is it to you?"

"Revenge," Coin stood, staring back at Katniss. "We are not so different, you and I."

"How? I never saw you in the arena," Katniss hissed back at her.

"I think this meeting is now adjourned," Coin moved swiftly out of the room and the door closed with a click.

"Katniss, you need to control your temper," Peeta murmured as everyone began filing out of the room.

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," Katniss muttered. "She has no idea what the Games are really about."

"I know," Peeta told her softly. "Getting angry at her won't solve anything, though."

"Says you," Katniss whispered darkly. Peeta sighed, looking slightly ashamed, and they continued to walk back to the twelfth floor of the training centre. Despite Peeta's best efforts during the walk, Katniss was still angry with Coin when they entered the sitting room and joined their tributes, their stylists and pretty much everyone else staying on their floor.

"Well it's about time you lot showed up," Ryker barked irritably. "They're about to show the scores."

"Your Tribute, Katniss?" Haymitch laughed, and Katniss rolled her eyes back at him. "Teach her about slugs at all?"

Katniss glared at him. "Do you teach your Tribute about the effects of alcohol?"

"We're right here," Ryker hissed. "And shut up, it's starting."

Sure enough, the anthem of Panem blasted through the television's speakers.

The first number to show up was for a boy named Abdon Marl. He scored a seven. More numbers flashed by. A girl named Colista scored a five. Eryx's face glowed on the screen with the number six. Perfectly average, as per usual. A few of the people in the room congratulated him, but he just smiled back at them, not really acknowledging them at all. Straight after him, Fayna's picture showed the number two underneath it.

"TWO! That's like, thirty-six more than one!" she chirped happily.

"Your Tribute, Haymitch?" Katniss smirked, to which she got a scowl in return. No-one had the heart to tell Fayna that two was not thirty-six more than one.

Another tribute passed, then Jessamine Snow scored a nine. A couple of floors down, Johanna smiled at her Tribute menacingly. "Still room for improvement," she hissed.

Jessamine sighed. Truthfully, she wasn't too disheartened at her score, given that Coin was always going to mark her down no matter what she did. After Jessamine, a boy named Junius scored an eight, which made her feel better, if only marginally.

Numbers and pictures continued in a blur. Ryker also scored a nine, a fact she smiled at. She hadn't failed as much as the likes of Fayna, though she'd never really considered failure as an option. After the broadcast finished with a boy named Thayne, who scored a four, the anthem played again and the broadcast ended. As the tributes filed out, Haymitch began trying to guess what would happen in the Games. The highest score was a ten, scored by a boy named Kiros.

"The Games will be over like that," Haymitch snapped his fingers.

Katniss, still fuming over the meeting with Coin earlier, didn't reply, and Peeta really didn't feel like betting on the results of the Games. Without another word, the three Mentors left the room for bed.

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to point out that at the moment, I have a whole bunch of tally marks on my arm. Just for the Doctor Who reference. This chapter was brought to you by 'I Just Can't Wait To Be King' from The Lion King, and 'The Imperial March'. Also, I read parts from near the end of Mockingjay for part of this chapter, and I swear, pretty much that whole book make me feel sad. Apart from President Snow dying of laughter. That makes me crack up laughing EVERY time. **

**Anyway. Review? Please? And unless exams kill me, hopefully I'll update sooner than I have been.**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm a very bad updater. I apologize. **

**Seriously, I got about 500 words into this chapter months ago. That's how bad I am. Anyway, chapter.**

* * *

The next day was torture for some of the mentors. Namely, Haymitch. Apparently, the job of teaching the tributes etiquette, which he had delegated to Effie for so many years, was now his job along with the task of interview content.

Basically, this meant that Haymitch had to spend an entire day with Fayna May.

And he was _not_ okay with that.

The girl was charming enough, but he simply could not get over her sheer stupidity. He wondered if it was all an act, but dismissed the thought from his mind almost immediately. No-one smart would intentionally act as dumb as Fayna.

"So, uh, Fayna. What angle were you planning to play for the interview?" Haymitch asked hesitantly, as if he were afraid of the answer.

"Ugh. I hate fractions," Fayna grumbled before answering. "Something that doesn't involve Science."

Haymitch blinked. "There is so much wrong with what you just said, I'm not even going to bother correcting you."

Fayna looked at her mentor, confused, and Haymitch sighed.

"How are you going to act in the interview?" Haymitch insisted, speaking slowly.

"Like a unicorn, duh," Fayna scoffed, looking at Haymitch as if he was the stupid one.

Haymitch reached into his pocket and pulled out his handy flask of spirits. If he was going to mentor Fayna May, he sure as hell didn't want to remember it.

* * *

Eryx really didn't pay any attention to Peeta Mellark. Yes, he was his mentor, and he probably should have listened, but he had a plan. At least, he thought he had a plan. Any other sane tribute would have been grappling for Peeta's help. He was the one who won over every crowd he ever talked to. But Eryx knew he wasn't like that at all. He couldn't bring himself to escape from the plain mold he'd been in his entire life. Yes, he lived in the Capitol, but he wasn't the flashy type. Some people in the Districts lead more extravagant lives. He couldn't drop a bombshell like Peeta had in his interviews. Among the Tributes, none of them were his friends before the rebellion, and they certainly weren't his friends now.

"Are you even listening to anything I'm saying?" Peeta asked, looking slightly annoyed.

"Um, yeah?" Eryx looked up from his hands, which he had been staring at for the lats five minutes.

"What are you going to do then?" Peeta looked at him expectantly.

"Wing it."

Peeta sighed. "That's exactly what I told you _not_ to do."

"What else can I do? I'm not you!" Eryx barked.

"You don't have to be me," Peeta's tone became softer when he noticed the sheer amount of emotion in Eryx's voice.

"What else can I do?" Eryx asked again. "I have no bombs to drop. Not like you. You had Katniss and a non-existent kid."

Peeta frowned. "You make me sound so petty."

"I didn't mean-" Eryx sighed. "The odds all stacked up in your favour. Me? My odds skipped town, crossed to the other side of the world and got caught in a large explosion. My odds are non-existent."

"Your life can't be that bad. I think you're exaggerating."

"Oh yeah?" Eryx looked at Peeta in challenge. "Try me."

"You're alive, for one."

"True."

"Your family?"

Eryx paused. He hadn't thought about his family in awhile. The truth was, he'd given up on his mother just before the rebellion began. She'd been close to insane ever since his father left without warning to be a Peacekeeper in District Seven, years ago.

"They're irrelevant."

"Tell me about them," Peeta urged.

"My father left when I was eight. Then he died a couple years ago. My mother went insane. I doubt she's even noticed that I'm not in the house."

"But she's alive," Peeta pointed out. "That's better than nothing."

"She's only alive in the loosest sense of the word."

Peeta dropped his gaze for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not that important," Eryx waved off the sympathy like he had been for years. He'd never wanted people to be sorry. He just wanted to get on with his life.

"In all seriousness though, you need to think about what you're going to do for this interview," Peeta said, turning the topic back to business.

"I told you. I'm going to wing it."

Peeta sighed, but Eryx knew that there was nothing else for him to do. Just play his part in the Games.

* * *

Jessamine had been complaining to Johanna for hours. Blah, blah, this isn't fair, biddy-blah, blah.

"Would you just shut up for a minute?" Johanna hissed. "I'm your mentor, not your councilor."

"It doesn't matter. You and I both know that me getting selected for these Games wasn't chance," Jessamine argued.

"What's done is done. Whining about it isn't going to help."

"It always worked in the past," Jessamine pouted.

"That's the point. This is a new era, in which you don't get a say. I get that you don't like what's happening to you, which is actually really hypocritical. Well, tough luck. Life's never fair," Johanna said with a controlled, seething fury.

"You're not even giving me a chance in these Games," Jessamine retorted. "You're not my councilor? Fine. But be a mentor."

Johanna looked at her Tribute, realizing that she had the potential to win the Games, from spirit alone. Realizing, for the first time, that as much as she had hated President Snow, his granddaughter wasn't exactly him. How do you exact revenge on someone who is already dead?

Still, Jessamine had moments where she'd reminded Johanna of President Snow. But, she reasoned, Jessamine was probably going to die anyway. The odds weren't in her favor.

* * *

Ryker really didn't know what kind of advice Katniss was giving her. First, she'd try to tell her something, then she'd shake her head and say; "No, don't do that. That's stupid." It was driving Ryker insane.

"How did you prep for your interview?" Ryker asked, the fact that she was becoming fed-up evident in her tone.

Katniss sighed in a sort of weary, I've-been-around-forever laugh. "He was patient for about an hour. Then he got drunk when he decided I couldn't put on an act."

Ryker smiled slightly at Katniss' tone.

Katniss looked at her, reflective. "My stylist, Cinna gave me the best advice," she told her. "He told me to answer the questions as if I was talking to him – someone I actually didn't half hate. It kind of worked."

"Peeta's interview is what made you famous," Ryker said, almost bitterly.

"I guess it is," Katniss admitted. "For everyone in the Capitol, anyway. I'd like to think my training score helped."

Ryker frowned. "Nine isn't bad."

"It's not bad," Katniss agreed. "But how is the crowd going to remember you?"

Ryker sighed. "I don't know. My plan was to go out there, answer the questions and leave."

"You're gonna try to win the Games with minimal sponsors?" Katniss frowned.

"Hopefully, I won't have to," Ryker said, only realizing then that in trainings with Katniss, she dropped her confident demeanor. "Kinda hoping everyone will sponsor me when they see me in the arena."

"Sounds like a good enough plan."

Ryker stared off into space for a moment, thinking. Then, suddenly, she laughed.

Katniss raised an eyebrow.

"I was just thinking how ridiculous it is that I have a plan to survive the arena, but I have no idea how to survive Sabrina and my prep team."

Katniss smirked. "Just compliment them on something. You won't have to speak until lunch."

* * *

**A/N: I'M SORRY I'M SO BAD AT UPDATING. This chapter was going to be longer, but my sleep-deprived mind says no, and if I don't update now, this would probably be finished in another month.**

**As a side note, I bought tickets to the midnight showing of the Hunger Games. There's a group of ten of us going, an we're all going to try and dress up. I'm gonna be Madge. Even though she's apparently not in the movie, but shhh. I bought a Mockingjay pin online for my costume.**

**Anyway, interviews (finally) next chapter.**

**Review?**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: INTERVIEWS. Finally.**

* * *

Eryx didn't really hate his stylist, Kendrea. He mainly hated just the fact that he needed a stylist – the fact that he was in the Games. He guessed this was how tributes felt in the days before the rebellion. Before now, he hadn't really thought about it. He never knew anyone in the Games, and how could he? He'd never had any real reason to hate them, it was easy enough to convince himself that it was just fiction, not real teenagers dying. Now he was right in the thick of it, and he didn't know what to think. He felt almost guilty for not considering this angle earlier in his life. How must it have been, being a kid in one of the Districts? Dreading reaping day, wondering if they'd ever get to come back home after that ceremony. It was something that crossed his mind way too often these days. He resented the fact that he was now just a piece, one of Coin's pawns.

_Does anyone really believe she's better than Snow?_

But the thoughts were pushed out of his mind when his prep team began to ask him specific questions.

"What's your favorite color, Eryx?"

"Are you looking forward to your interview, Eryx?"

"What school did you go to, Eryx?"

Eryx wanted to scream at them to stop. He wanted to ask them why they cared, he was as good as dead anyway. Who wants to know about a dead boy's past? But nevertheless, he tried to answer politely. The last thing he wanted was to be resented by everyone.

"What do you think, Eryx?"

It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't another pointless question. He looked up into the mirror in front of him. He tried to repress a sigh. Just another plain-ish suit. Nothing extremely fancy. Okay, it was a black suit with a little fancy embroidering, and yeah, he didn't look half bad in it, but he was getting sick of dull. Sick of being the person who looks kind of modest. How do you get noticed with just your personality alone? Your responses to questions?

Eryx tried to ignore his negative thoughts and answered his stylist. "Yeah, it's great. Thanks."

* * *

Fayna tended to like any and all time she spent with her prep team. Mainly because they were just like older versions of her, if slightly less ditzy. Since all day was spent with them, she was more enthusiastic than usual. Which was saying something.

"Oh my gosh, I love your skin tone! Is that baby blue?" Fayna asked one of the members of her prep team at one point. This sparked a rather dull conversation, but apparently exciting to Fayna and her prep team. They spent the rest of the day discussing makeovers and things like rainbows and puppies. And unicorns. Don't forget the unicorns.

Eventually though, Fayna managed to stop talking long enough to be dressed up in a dress that seemed to be made of all the glitter in the Capitol. Other than the pink and silver sparkles, the dress appeared to be relatively plain. But Fayna acted as though Edessa, her stylist, had just presented her with a dress made of diamonds.

"Oh. My. Gosh. It's so pretty!" She squealed twisting and turning before the mirror. Her blonde hair bounced in soft curls and her makeup was rather overdone – not that that was a problem for Fayna. Overdone didn't reside in her vocabulary.

Edessa beamed at her. "You're a stunner!"

* * *

Jessamine tried to be polite. After to many days of being hostile towards Johanna, it was almost refreshing to not be glaring at someone constantly. Her stylist, Kais, wasn't completely horrible. He wasn't the best person in the world, but Jessamine knew how to deal with his type. So she tolerated him. The prep team too – after all, she was used to public appearances. For her, this would probably be the easiest part of the Games. Wear a pretty dress, go on a stage, talk for a bit, leave. There wasn't much more to it. Jessamine felt sure that some of her fellow Tributes were freaking out over their interview at that particular moment. She wanted to laugh. A smirk crossed her face as she made an idle, half-hearted sort-of chit-chat with her prep team. She didn't have to do much talking anyway – if there was one thing she knew about prep teams, it was that once you got them talking, you only needed to add a few more comments here and there. Then you could pretty much fall asleep. In fact, she actually almost drifted off a couple of times, before Kais said, "Look in the mirror."

Jessamine obediently turned her head towards the reflective surface. She was draped in a purple and gold gown, with a little too much jewelery for her taste, but it wasn't as though she was about to start complaining.

"It's great. Thank-you."

* * *

Ryker _tried_ not to spend the entire day glowering at her prep team, but they were too cheery. Like that other girl on her floor, the blonde one. Fayna. Stupid, excitable people annoyed her to no end. She tried complimenting them on something ridiculous – a green wig, but that ended in annoying babbling. True, Katniss' advice had worked and she didn't really have to speak for a while, but then they started asking her questions when their own chatter had begun to dissipate. So she ignored their questions, held her eyes above their heads and cleared her face of any emotion. As much as her prep team and stylist, Sabrina, irked her, she didn't want to end up yelling at them. Accusing them of what she really wanted blame someone for – the fact that she was even here – wasn't fair to them. She knew it wasn't their fault, but she didn't have to like everything about her situation. What did it matter if she despised everything about it? It's not like anyone cared about her opinion. And if she spoke out about the Games, she could guarantee her death. She was pretty sure Coin didn't care if there was a victor or not.

"Ryker? We're done. You can look now."

Ryker noted the fact that her prep team seemed a little intimidated. Which was good. If half of the field were comparable to them, she'd easily win these Games. She glanced at her reflection in the giant mirror pressed against the wall. Tight-fitting black dress with silver designs on it. Harsh, stand-out hair and makeup. For all of Sabrina's quirkiness and annoying-ness, she wasn't bad at what she did.

"I like it," Ryker said, surprising herself and everyone else in the room.

* * *

Eryx was way too nervous as all the Tributes lined up and sat in seats along the stage. Caesar Flickerman sat in one of the two armchairs centre stage. There's lots of clapping, then the first boy, Abdon Marl, was invited over. Since there were no Districts in these Games, the order was alphabetical by first name. Eryx fidgeted all through the first eleven Tributes. Then it was his turn.

He let out a small whimper as his name boomed through the entire set-up in front of the training centre. He ignored the snicker from one of the girls sitting near him. He just got up and moved towards the centre of the stage passing the Tribute who had preceeded him. A boy named Daire. Eryx smiled slightly at the boy's sigh of relief. He wasn't the only one who was dead scared for this.

"Eryx, welcome," Caesar smiled at him as he sat down. He knew that his three minutes were already ticking away, like the last arena. Tick. Tock.

"Hi," he managed to choke out. How did anyone manage to act confident on this stage? All Eryx could think about was every eye on him. He wasn't used to that.

"So, Eryx, tell me a bit about yourself," Caesar opened. Eryx flashed back to when Peeta had asked him that same question. He remembered claiming that it didn't matter if anyone knew him or not. He would be dead all the same.

_Maybe I should've planned more for this interview,_ Eryx thought. _Winging it doesn't seem like such a good plan now._

"What don't you already know?" Eryx tried to make his tone as light as possible, but it still sounded a little strangled.

Caesar smiled. "Well, there is that. Tell us something we don't know."

"I could. But then I'd have to kill you all," Eryx replied. Yeah, okay, it was overused, but he was nervous. Nevertheless, the crowd laughed. This was one great thing about the Capitol – half of its population couldn't recognize a cliched, weak attempt at a joke if they tried.

"Too true. So, tell me about your training score. Six. Not bad," Caesar remarked.

"I could've got better," Eryx blurted before his brain could catch up. "I just have this habit of being average. I don't really want to be overlooked. It just kind of – happens."

Caesar looked a little taken aback by his comments. "You're saying you shouldn't be ignored because you seem average?"

"Exactly," Eryx smiled slightly, relieved a bit by the fact that his message was being conveyed. He wasn't exactly sure what good it would do him, but getting sponsors would be great. He wasn't completely ready to give up yet.

"So, what do you think of the field? You got any chance of winning?"

Eryx glanced back at his fellow tributes. "How hard could it be?"

Just then, Eryx saw the mentors – the remaining victors – on their own platform off to the side. He noted a few of them laughing – more at his expense than anything. The crowd below them chuckled, but Eryx got the sense that they didn't get the joke. That they didn't have any idea. Immediately, Eryx regretted his comment. He knew nothing of being in the arena. Not like Katniss and Peeta and Johanna. Not like any of them. Admittedly, the last couple of weeks had probably made him more aware as to what it was like compared to the crowd, but it still felt as though he should be forbidden to make judgments on what the arena was like until he'd actually been there.

The rest of the interview passed in a blur, but Eryx didn't make any more weird comments. Just straight answers.

He couldn't have felt more relieved when the buzzer rang and his three minutes were up.

* * *

"Fayna May!"

Fayna was practically bouncing across the stage. How that girl could be completely and utterly joyful in preparing for the Hunger Games was beyond anyone.

She sat down in a kind of hop-flutter type thing. "Hi!"

"Hello, Fayna. Don't you look stunning?" Caesar shook her hand.

"Isn't it just amazing?" She gushed. "I wish I'd had a stylist for my school ball!"

Some of the crowd laughed.

"Don't we all," Caesar grinned. "Tell me, Fayna. The arena. You scared?"

"Why would I be scared?" Fayna cocked her head in genuine confusion.

"So you'll win, then? You think you'll win the Games?"

Fayna just giggled. "Winning is fun."

Caesar smiled politely then, perhaps realising that this Tribute wasn't quite sane. Or something of the sort. Somehow, Fayna managed to turn the interview to the subject of unicorns and rainbows. By the time the buzzer went off, Fayna had won over the stereotypical Capitol citizens and creeped out the rest of the nation.

* * *

As Jessamine Snow's name was called, the crowd fell completely silent. No-one spoke. Some of the crowd – the few people who still liked President Snow, or had just generally never had anything against Jessamine herself, thought of how unfair it was. There were the others though. Those who thought like Johanna Mason. Like she was one final revenge on President Snow. One last way to show a dead man that he lost all of his power. Show everyone who still believed in his ideals that they should just go and start supporting Coin, because there would be no way of life in Panem going back to the way it was. Not even a slight chance.

_Aren't they hypocrites, though, _ Jessamine thought. _They brought back the Games. They're every bit as bad as they said Snow was._

"Welcome, Miss Jessamine Snow!" Caesar said a little too loudly. Maybe he was just too used to talking over noise, and the sudden silence was unnatural to him.

Jessamine nodded at the host and took her seat. Caesar started with basic questions, then moved on to the harder stuff.

"Well, Jessamine, I'm sure all of Panem is wondering," Caesar asked. "What's it been like for you since your grandfather died?"

"Kind of funny actually," Jessamine cracked an unexpected smile. "Not funny ha-ha, though. Strange. Everyone thinks I'm him. As if I look anything like him."

A ripple of light laughter drifted through the crowd.

"Well, I'll have to agree with the looks. I don't think our late President ever looked as good as you do right now."

_He's trying to change the topic,_ a voice in Jessamine's head warned. _He wants you to stop questioning Coin's motives._

"Props to Kais," Jessamine nodded to where all the stylists sat. "You think I could've pulled this off on my own?"

_Now you sound shallow._

"I didn't say that," Caesar said. "Now – the Games. Thoughts?"

"Bring it on."

_I can win._

"We can bet on you, then?"

"The others don't really stand a chance, to be honest."

_I'll show Coin._

"Spoken like a true Victor!" Caesar sounded a little too enthusiastic. "Any secrets you want to let us in on?"

"You all think that you know me, but you don't. I can almost feel all of the other tributes writing me off as dead on the first day," Jessamine said forcefully. "It's insulting."

_Coin is counting on me dying._

"We should be ready to be surprised?"

"Absolutely. But when I come back here, if you say it's a shock..." she let the sentence hang. The buzzer emitted its high-pitched ringing and Jessamine moved back to her seat.

_Screw Alma Coin._

* * *

Ryker Grant tried to act above it all. One step ahead of the Games. She figured that in itself could help her.

Then they called her name and it was all she could do to not run away. Not that she was naturally skittish. She'd just been watching tribute after tribute charm the crowd. And she wasn't exactly what you'd call a people person. She could almost hear the taunts at her old school. _Freak. Weirdo. Retard._

She wasn't a freak. She wasn't a weirdo. And she didn't even know how her peers had applied the word retard to her being. It was irrelevant.

She was Ryker. Whatever that meant.

"Welcome, welcome," Caesar extended a hand as Ryker sat down.

"Hello," she said politely. Her voice had become softer. She swallowed. _Act brave or die._

"Let's start with your training score. Nine! Good job, by the way."

She shrugged. "I could've gotten a twelve. I just wasn't trying."

She almost flinched as the words came out of her mouth. _Don't act cocky._

"Weren't you?" Caesar raised an eyebrow. "What about the arena? How do you think your training is going to translate into actual fighting?"

She glanced at the other tributes behind her. "I think I can take them."

Caesar laughed. Some of the crowd joined in. "Now, your mentor. Katniss Everdeen. What was it like being taught by the Mockingjay?"

_This is where you win them over, _she thought.

"Unreal. I'd like to think she's taught me everything she knows."

"So, watch out for you with a bow and arrows, huh?"

Ryker smiled slightly. "You could say that."

"Any other similarities between you and Katniss?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I'm not about to go falling into the arms of a baker boy in the middle of the Games."

That got a laugh from the audience. Ryker glanced up to where the mentors sat. Most of them were laughing and shoving Katniss and Peeta. Katniss had the tiniest smile on her lips. Like she really didn't want to admit that it was a good joke.

"I don't know," Caesar said, grinning. "It could happen yet."

"Oh, sure," Ryker scoffed.

Caesar turned at looked at the other tributes. "Any of you a baker?"

An even louder laugh from the audience this time.

"You just want another pair of star-crossed lovers," Ryker teased.

_Where is this person coming from? _She wondered. The interview continued, but really, she wasn't paying as much attention as she should've. Who was she acting like? It wasn't herself, that much was evident. She'd gone into the interview thinking, _play it high and mighty._ Now what was she? Cheeky? Arrogant? Who was Ryker Grant?

Caesar continued to bombard her with questions. To her, it felt as though a different person gave each answer.

When the buzzer finally rang she decided she'd just have to count on her actions to gain sponsors. From now on, there would be no acting on who she was. She'd just go into the Games and come home.

That, at least, could be done with minimal people skills.

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the amount of time taken to write this chapter. But it's long, so that's my excuse. I'd just like to note that I had a massive Tay-Swifty dance party while writing this chapter. IT'S A LOVE STORY. **

**Yes, I am insane. Every ounce of my insanity is poured into the character of Fayna, in case you hadn't noticed.**

**Also, I caught myself lapsing into present tense, because I've been re-reading Hunger Games. Why does this always happen?**

**And the Hunger Games movie is stunning. If you haven't seen it already, you need to. All the acting and everything is phenomenal. **

**Review?**


End file.
